


Cold Night Air

by Swashbuckler



Category: The Flash (TV 2014)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Power Swap, Discussions of Canon-Typical Violence, Frenemies, Gen, Ice Powers, Leonard Snart's Parka, Metahuman Hartley Rathaway, Snark
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-10
Updated: 2020-10-10
Packaged: 2021-03-07 17:00:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,493
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26931025
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Swashbuckler/pseuds/Swashbuckler
Summary: Hartley's broken out of the Pipeline for the fourth time. Sometimes he misjudges his limits.Alternate Universe where Hartley ended up with Killer Frost's ice powers following the particle accelerator explosion.
Comments: 4
Kudos: 17





	Cold Night Air

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [[Fanart] DCTV gen moodboards](https://archiveofourown.org/works/17685398) by [Purpleyin](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Purpleyin/pseuds/Purpleyin). 



> This fic was inspired by Purpleyin's DCTV gen moodboard for Killer Frost!Hartley! (The moodboard is in Chapter 25 :) )
> 
> I like Hartley, I like ice-themed powers - as such, this happened.
> 
> This fic is set after he has broken out from the Pipeline (and not for the first time) to provide a distraction for the Rogues.

Hartley tipped his head back against the brick wall behind him, safely sheltered in the shadow of an old industrial building and gazed up at the dark sky. Only a few stray stars were bright enough to spear through the golden haze of the city shining up from below.

A block over, a police siren went crying past. Hartley smiled. _Is that for you or for me?_ Through the gaps in the buildings, he just caught a rush of red and gold lightning racing after it, and away from him. _Right on time._ His final blast upon his exit from STAR Labs had slowed down the Flash at the rate he'd expected. It had all gone as planned. 

But now his breath - that had started the night as clouds of fog in front of his face - was beginning to shrink into smokey wisps. He felt okay; he hadn't used all of his energy slicing his way out of the Pipeline and opposing the Flash, he was sure. 

Still.

He slid one hand out of its glove and touched the backs of his finger to his throat. Still warm. For now. He tugged his glove back on and wedged his hands under his arms to stave off the inevitable shivering. 

Thankfully, it looked like he wouldn't be here much longer: a trio of shadows had stepped out of the alley further down the empty plot between buildings and into the weak pool of white security light dribbling out of a security light halfway up the building. Hartley pushed off and away from the wall, hands still jammed under his arms as the three Rogues approached: Captain Cold, flanked by Heatwave and--

"I see you couldn't find a sitter," Hartley called dryly, eyeing the figure on Len's left that with the light turned from long, spectral shadow into the grinning mess of the second Trickster. 

"Aw," Axel crooned, "I missed you too, Hart." 

"If only I could say the same." 

"Thought you two were the same age," Mick posed, without any real interest. 

Hartley gave Mick an insincere smile as he came level with them. "Not emotionally," he assured him. He turned his attention to Len, ignoring the sharp show of teeth from Axel. "How'd I do?" 

"Good," Len praised coolly. "You kept the Flash and his friends busy long enough to get their eyes off the rest of the city and for us to get what we wanted. N _ice_ job." 

Hartley made a soft noise of derision at the lilted pun. "Was that for your benefit, or mine?" The corner of Len's mouth twitched. 

"Whichever you prefer." He tipped his head to the side and they all began to walk the way Hartley had come on his way here, weaving through gaps in the buildings; Hartley now on his left, and Axel orbiting the three of them. "So. How was your stay in your second home? What's your score now - three-zero?" 

"Four-zero, actually." On the other side of Len, there was a snicker of _showoff_ from Axel that got a grunt from Mick that Hartley appreciated Len ignoring. He continued. "They keep adjusting the cell to suppress and counter my powers; I'd say I like the challenge, but that would require there being one," Hartley snarked. "I'm flattered they're so keen on trying to keep me at the lab; it's a shame no one tried this hard to help me keep my job there."

"And you're not over doing it." 

"As I said," Hartley sneered as they each ducked under the loose sheet of chain-link Axel was holding up out of the way for them, "it's not hard." 

"Really." Len stopped ahead of him in the alley, and his impassive stare had made him stop too. That was the thing about Cold. He didn't ask questions, just made statements you had to admit to being incorrect. 

He had been fighting to suppress the trembling in his shoulder as the night air - with its cool, cruel irony - crept into the layers of his getup.  
His efforts, as dedicated as they had been, were not so subtle that Leonard Snart had not noticed his shivering.

Ahead of him, Len sighed, barely audible noise of exasperation exhaled through his nose. He raised his hands to the collar of his open parka. He tugged it back and shrugged it off. 

"Here." 

Hartley blinked as Len held out his coat. "You're joking." Len cocked his head to the side, expression unchanged. _I look like I'm joking?_ "Offering me your coat," Hartley said, stepping forward, pulling a sharp warmth back into his tone. "Suddenly all my ruined prom dreams are coming true." 

Len closed his eyes, eyebrows raised, unimpressed. "I could do without the CCPD adding to my body-count; you freezing yourself to death won't be a good look for me." 

The mental image of his frost-coated skin under the city lights made his throat close. "As good a reason as any," Hartley conceded smoothly, sliding into Len's offered parka and sinking into the instant relief of its still warm-from-wear lining. "Thank you," he told Len seriously, who shrugged every so slightly and gave a flick of his hand. _Don't mention it._

"Ironic," noted Mick, as Hartley tugged the zip up. "You not being able to handle the cold."

"I can," Hartley said, tone cutting and far more defensive than he'd meant for it to be. He tilted his chin up. "I used up most of my energy ensuring I couldn't be followed by the Flash when I escaped. It's not as if I can take much heat out of this air, can I?" His breath was fogging in the night air again; Len's parka was helping. It wouldn't lend him enough heat to freeze over anything larger than a puddle, but at least he was comfortable again.

A state which was unfortunately not being helped by the Trickster. Axel had recovered from his own shock at Len relinquishing his coat to Hartley and was now at Hartley's side, needlessly fuzzing the fur trim of Len's hood with a gloved hand, a novelty he could indulge in now it was being worn around arguably safer shoulders.

"If Mick blasts you with his gun," Axel giggled, "would that warm you up?" His smile was making it clear that he was imagining the experiment regardless of the success of the outcome. _Qualis pater, talis filius._

Hartley gave him a forced smile. "I imagine only once." 

"C'mon," the Trickster wheedled. "You don't know that." 

"I wouldn't mind," Mick offered heartily. 

"I'm sure you wouldn't. I'll still pass." 

Axel shrugged, and his hand on Len's coat dropped away. "Fine. Your loss." 

"It could be worth trying," Len mused idly. Hartley blanched, and Len smiled, a playful catlike thing. _"Carefully,"_ he stressed. "If you can be supercharged by Mick's gun - directly or indirectly - then we wouldn't have to worry about you collapsing during a job." 

Hartley considered this, eyes on the Heat Gun that always remained in Heatwave's hand. "Two birds with one firearm," Hartley observed, and didn't miss the flicker of amusement across Len's face at the additional pun. "It would be convenient." With a gesture from Len, they began walking again. "There would be no reason why proximity to the spike in temperature it creates wouldn't be useable." 

"And you say I have no good ideas," Axel said from somewhere behind him, a comment that Hartley ignored.

"Would it run down the power cells faster if you're leeching off it?" Mick asked, tone stiff and guarded. Hartley rolled his eyes.

"I'll make sure not to break your favourite toy, Mick," Hartley called back. "Your gun gives off so much excess heat energy, I wouldn't need to touch the flame." 

"Wouldn't be much of you left if you did," Mick rumbled. "Even with your ice vampire powers." 

"Say, Hartley," Axel's voice came crooning forwards again, and Hartley quickly found his peer squeezing past Mick to walk beside him.

"Do I dare ask?" Hartley sniped.

"Of course," Axel said, his warm arm settling over Hartley's shoulders and against the back of his neck. "If you were to lick a metal pole, do your ice powers mean you get stuck to it even when it's not winter?" 

"It's so reassuring to get an insight into your assumptions about me, Axel." 

"You haven't tried?"

"You have?"

"Hmm, no," Axel admitted, cheekily. "I have gotten other people to do it, though."

Hartley ducked his head, smiling. "Tell you what, Axel," Hartley said, the warmth against his neck fuelling a familiar cool thrum through his veins. "I'll try it if you do." 

"Really?" Axel said with a laugh.

"Sure," Hartley said, tugging off one of his gloves. He gestured to a nearby streetlamp with a hand frothing with a fresh plume of icy air, his irises turned a bright, burning white, and he couldn't help but enjoy the sudden sheepish wince of regret on Axel's face. _"You first."_

**Author's Note:**

> ' _Qualis pater, talis filius._ ' - Hartley's comment in Latin about Axel translates to _'As is the father, so is the son'_ aka _'Like father, like son'_.
> 
> Purpleyin's moodboard for Killer Frost!Hartley can also be found on Tumblr [here](https://purpleyin.tumblr.com/post/615596338662506496/dctv-moodboards-role-reversal-frosthartley-was).


End file.
